Saving Grace
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: He wanted to ask her if she felt like there were certain moments leading up to this point he wanted to ask her if she knew like he knew that tonight was the night... but he didn't... EO FINISHED
1. Chapter 1

_Thanks to MissCam and DirtyVirgin... for the read through and beta. And yay! SVU!

* * *

_ Where can a dead man go? A question with an answer only dead men know…

* * *

He thought he would feel free, a weight off of his shoulders. He didn't; his feet were leaden, his entire frame infused with some heavy metal that kept dragging him right back down to the bottom when he attempted to claw up. Figured, get thrown a bone, have her out of his life forever and he kept thinking of the bad. 

Like his kids, and the distance, and all the shit she was gonna get in the settlement. But that last part didn't matter, didn't matter. It was his children and how far they would be from him; sure, they'd be a phone call away but then he was just a voice, a disembodied person asking about their day.

That was the worst case scenario; he wasn't sure even Kathy could honestly be that cruel.

Drive, that's what he had to do, just drive somewhere that he didn't have to think, didn't have to navigate. Six miles north of the city he maneuvered his car into a tight slot between a Tahoe and a few cycles, in the dusty parking lot of a bar, Logan's.

There was nothing easier than alcohol, a simple slip-slide of ice on bourbon on tongue. It was even easier for it to make its way down his throat; glass after glass. As it was consumed, it lost it flavor, lost its meaning. It was as if he were sipping down Evian.

He didn't even realize how many he'd had until he went to stand and felt the ground move beneath him. Done for, done in; he was hammered and so he settled his heavy body back onto the bar stool and rested his forearms on the cool mahogany. The glorious dizziness that filtered into his head was half-welcome and half-unwanted. He couldn't decide and there was no point in attempting to.

No. Point. There wasn't much purpose in anything anymore; not really.

The bartender spoke to him, the man's low baritone filling his ears with a low buzz, and Elliot peeled his eyes up off of the twinkle of the bar and onto the heavyset man. He smiled and nodded to the badge still clipped to Elliot's rumbled lapel. "Someone I can call?"

For a second, a fraction of one, he actually considered handing his phone over to the man and asking him to call Olivia. But if he had, the challenge would have been in pronouncing her name correctly, and then was she even in there as Olivia or maybe Liv, or perhaps even Benson. He couldn't remember.

What he did know for sure was that she was speed dial number one and that was easy enough to manage, even in the state he was in. With a quick shake of his head to the barman, he fumbled briefly with the clip on his cell phone but managed to unholster it.

Bleary, bloodshot eyes glared down at the bright, screaming LCD screen. He pressed '1' before he stared too long and brought the phone to his ear while tracing the ingrained stains on the bar. Breathing heavy, he could hear it puff back in his ear, the sound magnified amidst the ringing of the line.

The scotch stung bitter on his tongue, the aftertaste tempting him to order another to wash it away. He couldn't.

Elliot's mind began to drift, his eyes rolling back as his lids came down... but there was a click on the other end of the line and then, "Why, I mean, the hell, are you calling me at-wait." There was a shuffle on the other end of the line before she came back with, "Two twenty-seven in the morning?"

As if this were a new thing; as if he wouldn't have called her. As if Fin or Munch wouldn't have called her. Then again, this was him and this was probably the farthest gone he'd ever been. He'd passed three sheets awhile back, pressing the limits of consciousness by about a ream.

"You're a riot," he managed to slur, leaning back on the stool, attempting to gain his balance. A loud sigh passed through his lips and then he said, "Do I have to ask?"

Dead silence was his answer for a moment, but he knew it was just part of the game. Have him sweat for a few seconds and then give in. This time, she waited a few seconds longer, "Where?"

He coughed a few times, looked off to the side as if to avoid the question and said, "I, uh... Logan's." It was hard, working his tongue around the thickness that the alcohol had left in his mouth as sinful residue.

"That's almost-" Olivia caught herself and sighed deeply, almost to the level that he had. "Fine, yeah, I'll be there in... whenever." Elliot smiled and pulled the phone away from his ear. She was a saint and a savior, some sort of fallen angel that he couldn't categorize. Before he could clip it shut he heard her shout, "Don't pass out!"

He didn't, couldn't. The music was up too loudly and the alcohol was buzzing fast through his veins, causing his entire being to hum. To pass the time he began counting the cigarette burns in front of him, getting to twenty-five before beginning at one once more.

God, why had he taken those last two scotches? His brain was screaming at him as he picked up the flimsy glass and downed the contents, chewed on the residual "rocks" and ordered another. Why, why? And why had he called her; he knew what would happen when she showed up. He knew it, a flimsy excuse to bleed his heart to her, but an excuse nonetheless.

She, Olivia, really was quite a sight to behold. Akin to the clean slice of a scalpel; she left a mark that would scar if not attended to in the most careful of manners. She was sex and innocence and strength compounded into one person.

And he could remember wanting her for as far back as his forever went.

His head spun with a thousand different questions, with a thousand different answers to a thousand other questions he'd yet to think of. His head spun.

The barman tapped him on the arm once to ask for his payment and Elliot slid a shiny, new Visa across the lacquered surface. The other man eyes him suspiciously for a moment. "You a cop?"

Glazed eyes blinked a few times before settling on the form in front of him. "Yeah." For no reason whatsoever, Elliot searched out his badge and produced, sliding it too over the counter.

"Cops drink free," the man mumbled and tossed the card back. He held the copper for a moment, passing a thumb over the detailed surface. He passed it back slowly, looking from the cop to his badge, whispering "To protect and serve," under his breath… so sad. So slow.

Slow motion too, as Elliot watched him slide the badge across the bar and meander away, rag in hand.

An undeniable sadness fell over him, filtering into his bones, dragging him down again. His face hit his hands and he stared down through muted flesh tones at the wood; (the wood that filtered through the cracks his form had created glared up into his eyes and the wood glared at him through cracks in his fingers and his eyes closed.

There was a ticking in his head, one that passed the minutes. The ticking brought forth memories of the blood; just the blood. There were no victims, no grieving mothers or spouseless spouses. Blood, an endless pool that radiated out, just barely touching him.

It was probably thicker than real blood should have been, but his mind was too inebriated to really make the distinction.

A subtle tap on his shoulder shook him from his waking nightmare. "That was quick."

Olivia cocked her head and slipped onto the stool next to him. "It's been an hour," she mumbled before dropping her head to his level. "You're pretty gone, eh? Can you wait out one beer?"

Straightening his back, he sat up on the stool and nodded to her. Olivia called for a Bud and placed her hands, folded, on the bar top. "I told you that you could call me," she breathed after a bit, eyes forward, fixed on the neat lines of bottles set behind the bar. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble to feel like shit."

He laughed, but only a little and leaned in towards her. "How else?"

"God. El, I've got at _least_ a thousand words to make you feel like an ass but you go out and pay for it." She smiled at him softly and he absorbed it, the lucent sponge he was.

A laugh escaped the confines of his chest. "Yeah."

A beer was placed before her and she pondered it before she took a long sip, a gulp. "Why am I here?" It burned down her throat in a pleasantly familiar way, one that she relished.

That was a real question, a real something that he had to ponder. He had to set his sights on the answer, had to know just want she wanted to hear. And then again not. "You're here because… there's no way I can drive. And you're here because I trust you and you're here because… you want to be here. And I want you to be here."

Her fingers laced with their twins on the bar before her and the both of them stared at her digits, waiting for the other to speak. "Maybe," she finally breathed and looked at him, allowing her eyes to pass over his face a few times before she spoke again. "Maybe I am, but why are you here?"

His answer was quick in coming, and he leaned in towards her so that he didn't have to speak over the noise surrounding them. "The kids and Kathy and now, well, kinda you."

"Kinda me, huh?" Olivia ran her finger around the edge of her mug, eyes stinging from holding on the image before her for too long. She couldn't look at him, couldn't look at him.

If she had looked, she would have seen him nodding. "Yeah, kinda. I just… don't know how to tell you that," he sighed and bumped her with his shoulder. "Hey, look at me." Olivia lifted her gaze to him, her hair falling over her forehead as she did so, obstructing her view partially. "I don't know how to tell you that I'm divorced and have you understand what I mean, you know?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't know." She really didn't. She knew that there was something going on because her veins thrummed and her head throbbing, the blood pulsating in her ears. Something was about to happen, every synapse was ready to fire.

Elliot cradled his head in his hands, and rested his elbows on the bar. "Eight years, I mean –" The solidity of his voice, the way he worked the syllables and the tenor of his voice; he was about to state something that couldn't be taken back and she knew it. It was in the way he had his eyes set, the way his mouth moved, his demeanor.

"Elliot, stop right now, right now." Her hands pushed out in front of her, palms up, facing the bottles of alcohol, pressing him to stop. "You're drunk and you're thinking about your kids, and just stop."

Elliot set his jaw and straightened his back in the chair. "No, uh uh, not like that. You're not going to get me like that," his voice had dropped. "You know what it's like, for years knowing you're with the wrong person, knowing that the ring on your finger is holding you back, keeping you from… Liv, I love those kids more than my life, and I loved Kathy too but…"

"El, you're a good man, and a good father," she turned to stare him directly in the eye. "And you need to stop… right now."

His fingers wrapped around her left wrist, placing his other hand on her knee. "Liv, please… I can't be stronger than this."

She turned back to the bar, laying her palms down on the cool surface. Her lips fell open and she gaped at no one, stared forward and allowed the tremors to pass through her body without hindrance. A few blinks passed over her eyes before she allowed the tension to drain back out again. "I can't do this anymore," she nodded, gave a half a smile and sighed, her chin falling against her chest. "And you can be stronger… because you have to be."

Elliot licked his lips and wondered if he could get away with ordering another drink. He bet not. "We can both try and be… have strength in this…" Pausing, he stared at his hands and added, "This is getting too convoluted."

"I agree," she murmured and tossed a few bills down onto the bar. Olivia slid from the stool and watched her partner do the same, taking a few moments to situate himself amongst the spinning in the room. "Let's go."

"I won't forget about this," Elliot claimed as he moved in front of her, pressing the door open and using it to hold his body up as she passed by him. Cinnamon, cinnamon and sleep, that was what she smelled like. "And are you okay to drive?"

Olivia pulled the keys from her pocket and turned quickly to laugh at him. "I had one beer." In a moment, in that moment with the autumn wind ruffling her sleep-deprived frame, he fell in love with her. He fell in love with her hard.

Elliot smiled and moved to her side, leaning in to drop a kiss far too close to her lips. "I know, but I'm your partner. I'm just watching your back."


	2. Chapter 2

_Kirsten as always... and Lori for the help_.

* * *

Bitterness.

It had seeped into her being, trickled down and out into her voice. On the tip of her tongue, it stung. There was a fine line between sarcasm and that bite.

It bit him, gnawed deep. She spoke and it cut directly through him, entering and exiting, taking a piece of his soul. Sometimes its trajectory was skewed and it would ricochet off of something to come back at him again. The quips accompanying the roll of the eyes and the belatedly shaken head did nothing to deter his concern. There was no mirth in the depths of her eyes any longer, no happiness in the drive she possessed.

There was malice and yes, there was hate. She knew retaliation well and she knew disgust; she knew them both all too well. And now, that was what encompassed her being. It overturned the good and the beautiful, seared its way through the optimistic and the nice and greedily hollowed out the bright and vibrant.

Before he knew it, before his eyes she was very nearly an empty shell of a person. Olivia Benson by name, a black and white rendering by character. She'd been fine the other night… he could have sworn…

She had ceased to accompany them on post-shift bar hops. There was something, something deep and dark and desolate and it was burrowed far down in her being, feeding on what was left of her soul. He feared if she had one drink she would then have five and hate herself for the person she'd become, a twin of her mother.

The ever-strong facade she'd managed to portray for the outside world was just barely in place for him. He'd send a searching gaze her way and her veneer would be a second longer in coming up to cover her. Eyes, brown and somehow piercing in the saddest way would follow him across a room before they would follow the evidence.

And it killed him. It killed him to know she would watch him while his back was turned but still, her eyes would search him out. Even in a cramped apartment, a tiny alley, her eyes would locate him and hold on his frame until he acknowledged her and looked away. It did him in, the way her spirit had shriveled inside of her.

It stole his breath when he caught her slumped form in her chair, gazing at the paperwork in front of her as if it didn't exist. "Liv?"

"Hm?" She pulled out of her reverie, her arm springing to life and nearly knocking the stagnant cup of coffee to the floor.

"What?"

A withering, he felt it in his chest when his mouth screwed up in sadness, "You're out of it." It was all he could do, to sit and stare and watch. It was all he could do to feel his heart clench for her, knowing how hard it was to continue, how easy it would be to give up.

A blink was his answer and for a moment he accepted it, just let her go on feeling nothing. But Elliot got up from his seat and moved to snatch their coats from the battered pegs, tossing hers to her haphazardly. "Let's get out of here for awhile."

With a quick glance to the wall clock, she looked back to him. "It's ten, we haven't done anything yet."

Elliot pointed to the stack of manila files cluttered about his desk. "Paperwork demands coffee," he stated, crossing his hands over his chest in an authoritative manner. She rolled her eyes expertly and shrugged the leather over her shoulders, following him out of the precinct.

The morning greeting them, the chill of the day shivering up their limbs to settle on the back of their necks. Her hands found the bottom of her pockets and her shoulders slumped just a bit, her body taking the position of someone with the chills. "'S brisk," Elliot commented, glancing at her before leaning over to nudge her with his shoulder.

Olivia nodded belatedly, but otherwise said nothing, content to bask in the freshness of the day. The only sound amongst the hustle and bustle of the city around them was the dull thwack of their shoes on the pavement. He wanted to fill the silence with something witty, something intriguing, something that would just make her _speak_ to him again.

Before he'd called her to the bar she'd been just as withdrawn and while his admission probably hadn't helped things, he was glad that it hadn't broken her. Hell, he was more than glad; it was a miracle that he'd been able to say as much without cutting off the word flow.

It wasn't about what he'd said to her last week, it couldn't be. He wouldn't allow it to be about that, not even a little bit. "Hey, about what I said last week..." Damn. His. Inner. Monologue. The words would have slipped out regardless and that he knew, so he went with them, keeping his demeanor as relaxed as possible.

She paused under a large maple tree, studying her shoes before she lifted her eyes to meet his. "What about it?"

Elliot licked his lips, waiting a moment for the breeze to cool the moisture on his lips. He'd never lied to her, never lied to her face. He had never misled her or fibbed. But he had the opportunity about then, to say that he was drunk and didn't remember. He could have said, "Did I say anything stupid?" or "Forget I said anything."

The twisting in his guts was half nerves while the other half was the simple concrete feeling that he had to tell her what was really on his mind. After all, she'd been the one he talked to initially about the divorce; she was the one he called in the middle of the night to make sure he was still alive; she was still the woman he called in the middle of the night just to make sure _she_ was alive. She was still the only woman who made him question everything that came out of his mouth. "I wanted to make sure... we both remembered it."

The side of her mouth switched, taunting him with the hopes of a smile. It never reached her lips, but it touched all around her eyes and that settled some part of him. "It's not a matter of remembering El, it's really just processing it."

Pursing his lips, he nodded slowly and began walking again. She followed, a step later, finding his stride easily. This could go one of two ways, or so he hoped. It could be incredibly easy or make things exponentially worse. But the way she was sighing and the way she was walking just a smidge too close to him made him think that things could be looking on the up and up.

Autumn clung about them, pulling them along easily. Starbucks was just around the corner and while they usually made the trip in a very few quick minutes, they meandered this time; striding along slowly, neither wanting to admit they were relishing the other's quiet company.

Somehow, his hands wound up in his pockets too and he bit his lip, clenching his jaw. Deep breaths filled his lungs and he was struck with the oddest thought: his kids liked her. They loved Olivia, everything about her. His mind swam with that small fact, making his heart swell just a little. It was a strange morsel of hope to digest, a strange fact like that, but in an instant, it made it all seem just a tad bit brighter.

As they rounded another corner, Olivia spoke up. "Have you really thought about this, thought about what you said and really... what it means?"

Pausing on the pavement, he turned towards her and smiled. "Liv, I see it like this... what have I got left to lose? If I can keep it professional this long... well you get what I'm saying."

Skeptically, she sized him up. "No, but I'm getting there." And then a smile broke out across her face, eyes sparkling in that way that made him ponder the true value of a google and the span of the universe and what love was _supposed_ to feel like and what it _did_ feel like.

"How are you doing lately?" he asked her, tugging on her arm a bit as they pulled up in front of Starbucks.

Olivia sighed and smiled a tiny bit. "I'm just working through things in my head, it'll get better." A nod answered her but she added, "Thanks for asking though."

He desperately wanted to taste the hollow of her throat but instead he walked a few steps and held the door open for her, truly relishing the outline of her ass as she walked by.

It was going to be a good week after all.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks Lori... for the beta and putting up with the le crap today.

* * *

_ "Gotta go before the firearms review board," he said, tossing a file of haphazardly-stuffed papers onto his already cluttered desk. Elliot sat in a huff, steepled his fingers in front of his face and rested his forehead on them. The worry lines etched across his forehead and around his eyes seemed deeper as of late, more pronounced; and while she wasn't overtly worried, she was a bit concerned.

It looked as though he hadn't slept in days, weeks. She might have thought that too if he hadn't called her the night before and fallen asleep while speaking with her on the phone. Olivia had listened to his steady breathing for a good five minutes before she hung up and burrowed under her own covers, sleeping with the sound of his breathing in her head.

Today, she could still hear it, feel it on the back of her neck and across her skin as if he'd somehow touched her from all of those miles away.

Olivia leaned back in her chair and gave him a moment to process the bulk of what was flittering around in his surely disheveled head. She found it confusing and more than a little bit agitating how much concern she actually harbored for him. There was a wealth of it, a cache waiting to be used up on him; empathy, sympathy, and understanding… all for him.

It seemed as if she had a lot of feelings within her that were reserved solely for her partner, and while she could name most of them in her head-could define and place them into categories-she wouldn't dare to speak of them aloud. They roused her otherwise tidy brain; constantly reminding her, begging her to be used up. The analytical side of her would bat them away, staving them off for one _more_ day.

Blowing a thin line of air between her lips, she straightened her back and caught his attention. "This about Havez?" Olivia folded her arms in her lap, licked her lips and waited for him to go off, his jaw having tightened in that way it was prone to do before an outburst.

Elliot swallowed quickly, calming himself; he nodded a bit too emphatically. "Bastards say my shooting my not have been just. Like I'm supposed to mace the guy when he's got a gun to a kid's head!" Again, his head fell to his hands and was cradled by them, the heels pressing hard into his forehead. "We can never win, ya know?"

Instead of answering the question, she opted to attempt to comfort him. "You'll be fine, there's no way they can find against you, and I'll back you up; so will Fin," she smiled and tossed a pad of post it notes at his arm to get his attention. "Don't sweat it."

A half-hearted smile graced his lips and he sat back in the chair, lacing his fingers in his lap. "It's not that, not really. I just… you know." His eyes searched hers, waiting for understanding to register; hoping that she understood, that she knew what he was getting at, that she knew…

She nodded, "I know."

And then it came to her, the stark pang of realization; it was the seemingly telepathic conversations they were prone to have with each other, that's what set her mind reeling. They were able to finish each other's sentences; they knew one another's likes and dislikes down to the exact combination of roughage to get on the other's burger and the exact order it should be stacked in. They knew where everything was in the other's apartment and the exact time the other woke up in the morning. It was eerie, it was crazy, and it made her heart do adolescent little flip-flops in her chest for a reason she chose vehemently not to define.

They could decode each other's soul without really trying, and that's what truly shook her; the ease with which they had slipped into 'something more than partners' without realizing it. She swallowed and got up from her desk, rounding it to sit on the edge of his.

"You wanna grab a drink later?" she asked quietly, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard. Lifting his head, he looked at her quizzically.

"Why the hush-hush?" he questioned as he leaned forward, mocking her conspiratorial tone. Her lips twisted into a wry frown as her brow arched. Olivia leaned back on her arms, palms flat on his desk.

Clearing her throat, she explained, "Because I don't want anyone else to invite themselves along…" She trailed off, hoping to the high heavens that he would understand her meaning, that she wouldn't have to paint him a pretty picture of her intentions. Not that she had any intentions that were entirely out of line; Olivia simply wanted to get him out of his own head for a bit.

A difficult task, but one that she, surprisingly, felt the need to undertake. "But I'm talking somewhere in the range of one to two, no more than three, I'm not carting your ass home again." That broke the tension she felt settling over her shoulders and her frame relaxed a bit.

Elliot's face screwed up in confusion, but after a moment the cool infiltration of clarity smoothed over his features and he sat back once more and smiled. "Yeah, okay."

The flitter-flutter of 'his' emotions that generally resided in her head seemed to quiet down and regard her from the inside out. After a moment they seemingly settled back and gave her applause, and at the feeling of accomplishment, she smiled at him. "Good."

Later on that evening, they left the precinct together, shrugging on their light jackets before saying goodnight to the others. Out on the streets, the shiver of the wind through the trees had the leaves chattering against each other, the dead ones shuddering sluggishly down to the ground. They crunched under the duos' feet, reminding them that winter was approaching. "Where we going?" Elliot broke the silence, his voice low and steady. The cadence of it took her by surprise, warm and slow and sad.

The night enveloped them securely, creating a space for just the two of them. Together, they were alone in the city, the only two people that really mattered in the grand scheme of things. Every breath, every heartbeat, every step; it was all that kept the time between them. There was no beginning and no end for that night, just the steady thrum of a thousand moments building up the tension between them.

She wanted to feel the pulse at his wrist, take his hand, tell them that they didn't have to go anywhere, that they could get intoxicated right there on the sidewalk.

"I uh, was thinking maybe The Place," she decided on the spot, knowing it was a few blocks down and would give them time to shrug off the toils of the day. "You alright?"

Elliot shrugged. "Ever notice how we're constantly asking each other that?" She watched his shoes as they made their way down the sidewalk, noting how he was taking shorter strides than usual. "Isn't that weird?"

It was true, they were constantly questioning the other; making sure the other was eating right, sleeping when they were supposed to. Olivia knew when she didn't find out how he was doing, that he was going home alright, that he wasn't carrying a load out on his shoulders, she would go home and be unable to sleep.

"Would you rather we didn't?" Her reply was flippant and fast in coming and caused him to chuff out a silhouette of a laugh. "I mean-"

"Nah, nah not what I mean… I just think… do you think other people do this all the time, worry about how their coworkers are doing?" Confusion was latent in his tone. "You think it's us or the job or what?"

Olivia thought, really thought about an adequate answer. To say it was simply their occupation was false, but then to say it was entirely personal wasn't true either. "Probably both, half and half."

He nodded, "Yeah, probably about that."

"Never answered my question," she pointed out, reaching over to squeeze his bicep. "I kinda still want to know." She did not want to know, she needed to know. It was an essential thing, much like air, the knowledge to make sure that he was alright.

Elliot cleared his throat and glanced up at the little fraction of sky he could see amongst the buildings. There were no stars, just low hanging clouds, puffs of gray skating in between the space above the edifices. "Don't really know, I just feel kinda… anxious all the time, like I there's something out there I have to be doing but don't know what it is." Elliot laughed at himself, "Fucked up, eh?"

"No, not really…" Her voice dropped a notch. "You just feel… like you can't stop moving."

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah," he agreed. They rounded a corner and both had to jump to the side, narrowly avoiding two running children, their mother pulling up the rear as quickly as she could. She yelled a quick 'Sorry!' over her shoulder before taking the corner as fast as she could.

A chord struck in her heart, something sweet and rousing that made her head swim with the exhilaration of it. Though there was nothing happening between them, nothing really; simply walking and talking, she felt more blessed than she ever had. So beautiful, so distinctly perfect she couldn't contain her mirth.

Olivia's chin fell to her chest and she began laughing hard; her body shook at first, the chuckles coming in silent bursts. After a moment, her mouth opened and a bright cackle emerged, startling him a bit, but serving to make him smile as well. "What?" he asked, the confusion that had previously laced his voice having dissipated.

She shook her head and looked at him, grinning. "Nothing, I just… love autumn. And this… just walking with you." Olivia nodded, her grin falling a bit as a blush crept up her neck to her cheeks. It was nice, the quiet moment they were having, the comfort they both felt "C'mon."

With a jerk of her head they began walking again, even slower this time. After a moment he reached over and stopped her, his palm pressing gently on her upper chest. "Thanks uh, for looking out for me."

Olivia smiled, confused, "Hey, I'm your partner."

Slowly, deliberately, he nodded and licked his lip. He looked down the street both ways as if making sure they were secure in their location. "That the only reason?"

Olivia shook her head immediately and smiled, "Absolutely not." Such frankness in her voice, such honesty. The shade of her eyes confirmed it for him; the crackle of attraction between them was much more than the basic. There was something… something palpable, something nearly tangible…

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he straightened up, throwing his shoulders back a bit. "Well, good."

One more block to go and they began walking, closer than they had before. Elliot leaned over and with a playful smirk, linked his arm through hers, pulling her towards him so that their hips bumped. She laughed a little and looked up at him.

What she saw sent the files in her head scattering every which way. His eyes were hooded, but just slightly, a flare of lust rising in the pupils. Swallowing, she flicked her eyes away and then back to him. Still staring, he was still staring at her and she didn't know what to do. So she just started walking again, pulling him along with her.

He stumbled and followed behind her before he caught his footing and fell in step directly beside her. "How many rounds?" he asked, bending down to whisper in her ear.

"Hm, three," she answered, attempting to keep composed.

"Make it four and I'll pay for half," Elliot reasoned and waited patiently on her answer. She hummed a bit and glanced up at him.

"You're on, but we're grabbing a cab home, I'm not walking."

"Perfect," he said as they pulled up in front of the bar. "Absolutely perfect."


	4. Chapter 4

_Thankies to Lori for the thing... with the stuff.

* * *

_ It was monumentally different this time when she showed up on his stoop carrying a large canvas bag in one hand, clutching a six pack in the other.

Three, four, five years ago it would have been a casual detox; a bonding session, a friendship between two cops. Four years ago he could have helped the bag out of her hand without having to wonder if he'd touched her too softly or too quickly. Three years ago his stomach probably wouldn't have done that annoying flip-flop thing. Two years ago he might have been worried that she cracked a beer that fast.

And a year ago… she never would have ended up at his door a year ago.

They stood in his kitchen, each with a bottle in hand; Elliot sitting on the counter, Olivia leaning against the ledge in front of the microwave. There was meaningless chat, talk of the upcoming World Series, and some very off color jokes at Munch's expense.

Her smile was wonderfully easy in coming and when she pulled out the DiGiorno pizza and bent to pop it into the oven he actually bent with her, being the piggish man he knew he was, checking out the tightness of the curve of her behind.

"You checking out my ass, Stabler?" she asked over her shoulder, pausing in her movement to close the over door.

He should have laughed; it would have been the best route to go down. A simple smile and chuckle would have glazed right over the desperately hungry look in his eyes. "Yes," the voice that came out was not his; it was much deeper, thicker, wanton.

As Olivia's eyes went wide, she snatched up her bottle of beer and took a quick gulp. She caught the fumble and managed a slight, lopsided smile. "Good."

The scent of pizza filled the air in the kitchen and either it was the heat from the oven or something in the room had shifted to the 'severely disorienting' side of the scale. She watched his knuckles go white around the sea green of the bottle he was clutching a death grip. And the way she swallowed, so thickly, so totally, it made his mouth parch completely.

There was a buzz invading both of their brains and it had nothing to do with the alcohol was being consumed. Elliot swallowed just as slowly as she had, and they watched each other breathe for a few moments before their too-intense moment was interrupted.

"Hi dad," came the call through the front door, two types of equipment being dragged through the door. Olivia leaned over the counter to look through the doorway he happened to be looking through. Maureen dropped a load of field hockey gear on the floor and pressed her hair out of her face as Dickie pulled up the rear, lugging a hockey bag that was at least twice his size.

The two came trudging through into the kitchen, and to Elliot's surprise, were not shocked to see Olivia standing there.

"Hey guys," she said, tilting her head while genuine smile.

"S'up?" Kathleen murmured tiredly, moving past the two of them to grab a bottle of water from the fridge; but Elliot snagged her on the way and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "Oh, pizza," she said distractedly, interest piqued for a moment, but then looked to her father and said, "Shower, then homework, then bed. If anyone calls, I'm dead." The teen smiled at Olivia once more and moved out of the room, leaving Elliot's son standing there looking withdrawn. "For real!" she shouted behind her, "Dead!"

The adults in the room shared a glance. "What's up Dickie?" Olivia queried, setting her beer down on the counter behind her, out of the line of sight. The boy shrugged.

"Nothing... I just got right wing and I wanted left," his shoulders slumped, but he too made his way to the refrigerator to grab something.

Elliot shrugged. "You still made the team though, and that's awesome, congratulations." Olivia offered the boy her congratulations as well, but Dickie just shrugged and swung the door open. He dug through until he withdrew clutching an apple juice. "I'm gonna go play some X Box." He dragged himself away, as Elliot called after him.

"I'll be up in an hour... shower, homework and sleep!" The boy mumbled something in return, to which Elliot followed, "You guys eat?" Liv smiled to herself and rocked back on her heels, admiring the strong line of his neck as he leaned forward to call out into the other room.

A distant voice called back, "She took me to a salad place... I'm good." Both detectives grimaced and returned to their original positions.

"No X Box!" the father in Elliot demanded, though he knew his son would disobey him.

And there they were, left alone again, the lovely tension of before having dissipated into awkwardness. There was a flicker of a smile that teetered on the edge of her mouth and she picked up the beer once more and hid her smile behind it. On the counter, he squirmed and then cleared his throat, pointing to the oven. "Probably done, yeah?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah," she drained the dregs of her beer and pointed at him. "You have to get it out."

"So you can check out my ass?"

Olivia said nothing, just peaked her brows at him, her face twisting into a ghost of something naughty. "Yeah, go with that," she pressed.

Once the pizza was placed on the stove and sliced, they took it into the living room and cleared the coffee table. "Alright, what are we watching?" Elliot bent and retrieved three DVDs off of the end table. "We got… Old School, Mystic River and Crash."

Her head to the side, Olivia gave him a look of startled amusement. "Oh give me a break!" came his plea. "I've been accused of being behind the times."

"Really now?" She chuckled, mocking him.

"That's it, we're watching Old School."

Grabbing a plate and a few slices, Olivia tossed herself down onto the couch, toeing off her shoes before he told her she could. For some reason, that warmed him, knowing that she felt comfortable enough to do so. He tilted his head and looked at her for a moment, watching her pull mushrooms off of her pizza to pop them into her mouth. The smile that climbed upon his lips was warm and slow in coming.

Once the DVD was safety circulating in the player, he took a seat on the sofa beside her, stuffing half of a slice into his mouth. Washing it down with a very good chug of his beer, Elliot relaxed back into the couch, propping his feet up on the table.

Everything after that was accidental. The way in which he had shifted over towards her sometime after Mitch-A-Palooza had wrapped up was by complete accident. The way she scooted over to him about halfway through, and didn't object when his hand slipped to rest on the front of her thigh. It was all a mishap.

They sat like that, together on the sofa, until the credits had run the entire way through. The wall clock ticked off the seconds between them as the screen went blue and the Sony logo popped up in place of a moving picture. The two of them stared at it until their eyes watered from the brash azure; then they stared some more.

The green of the DVD display glowed a brilliant midnight, but still, neither made the move to get up. Even when a yawn escaped the constricted confines of her throat, he didn't ask her if she wanted to leave… because he wanted her to stay.

An itch took up residence in his palm, causing him to rub it along the back of the couch, dangerously close to the nape of her neck. His arm was around her then and they were together, staring at his mint green walls and imagining what was beyond them, wondering if they saw the same thing.

Olivia hummed low in her throat, sleep clouding her mind, and turned to him with hooded eyes. "That was hilarious."

There was nothing for him to do but nod slowly, and gaze at her. The three beers had numbed a subtle part of his brain and had him reaching a hand out to tuck hair behind her head. "Mmm, yeah, it was," he agreed, fingers slipping to her temple as his eyes slipped gently closed.

"Elliot," she whispered, her head slipping down onto his shoulder, "What are you-"

"Shhh," he whispered back, his intent adamant in the dimness. "Just enjoy it for awhile."

And they both did, for a long while… until time was obsolete and the only thing that mattered was the sun cutting crisply through the November cold.


	5. Chapter 5

_Readers, reviewers, thanks for taking the time to scan these words and letting me know what you think. It means more to me than you know. Molding these two characters is unbelievably fun, and I intend to keep doing so. Oh, and thanks Lori. :)

* * *

_It was funny how one could tell that winter was coming just by the amount of people in Central Park. The bite of winter hid in the whip of the late November wind.

Olivia sunk her head down into the collar of her parka. She found it amusing that the movement triggered her hands to automatically come together and pause in front of her face. Lips pursed, she went to blow into them until she realized her gloved hands couldn't be warmed in such a manner. That time of the year, she always shivered at the thought of the cold still to come. In New York, November cold was nothing compared to December cold and that, in turn was incomparable to January.

Yet there she was, strolling leisurely along the path, semi-fresh air cleansing her lungs. Two weeks previous she had fallen asleep on his couch and had awoken beneath a heavy blanket and as the scent of coffee and pancakes invaded her nostrils and she was surprised to find that she wanted to continue waking up to that. She wanted to keep the image of him flipping flapjacks, singing along to Bruce Springstein in his delightfully off-key baritone. How she had wanted to lean over and taste the syrup on his lips as he ate.

It was such an innocent image but one that made her temples throb with the sweetness of it; she'd never found so much pleasure in such a tiny scrap of a memory. She wanted more of them, longer memories with more to them; a rich and full thickness that would very nearly choke her with their heft. Olivia gulped in air, then wrapped her arms around her middle and kicked up some gravel as she walked on.

It was nice to remember, nice to be able to keep it on a loop in her head. When he'd walked her to the door, they'd both leaned towards each other as she stepped over the threshold. Elliot caught himself before she did. They both flushed immediately crimson and hurried through their goodbyes.

Now, all she could think about was pancakes and syrup. It was in the air, a slight tickle of the scent of maple. It wrapped her up, kept her pondering about sucrose and his lips... his lips. Such a tasty little fantasy; just his lips and endless sugar.

Olivia paused on the gravel path to look up at the clouds, the puffs of cumulus crawling by sluggishly. Pancakes with Cool Whip and strawberries and Elliot...

She had to get back to the precinct, it was getting a little too late for anymore lunch; she'd eaten her fill during that break with thoughts so fantastically sweet that her teeth ached.

Six thirty-seven saw her wrapped in Munch's tight embrace, the two of them laughing hysterically. Both Fin and Elliot looked on in confused amusement as Olivia thumped her head off his shoulder. She disengaged, pressing her palm to his chest as she moved back, wiping happy tears from the corner of her eyes. "Ahhhh, that was good," she sighed happily, her body relaxing. "Let's go get a drink, guys."

They all drank Sam Adams, tall glasses filled with heavy beer as Cragen looked on in disgust, sipping his soda. "That shit'll kill you," he mentioned, raising his glass to the rest of them who paused in their conversation to stare at him. "What? It will."

"You're probably right," John said, pushing his glass away. "You know, if the government-"

Olivia held up her hand, swallowing a large mouthful of beer. "Don't! Do not start."

The light inside was low; a dull yellow warmth that seemed to hug all of them, lull their incessant thoughts to the back of their minds. Perhaps the ale was flowing too fast and reaching them too quickly, because collectively their spirits could have lifted half of New York out of its grump. Not one of them sat without a smile plastered on their face, and not one of them talked of anything that wasn't carefree.

She felt as of she were part of a family, sitting there amongst her coworkers, drinking her dinner and pretending not to stare at him. Elliot was pretending not to keep trying to catch her gaze over the edge of his mug. When he finally managed to achieve a connection he winked salaciously, causing her to smile and then hide in her mug.

She was laughing, loud and sure and it made his eyes soften, his stomach flutter in a way he hadn't felt in a good many years. He watched her, watched as her lips peeled back and her teeth were revealed and she emitted a throaty chuckle that took his senses by storm. He couldn't get enough.

The hours slid by, creeping unheard; unseen under the table. Unbeknownst to them, the hour slipped into the double digits and yet the beer kept coming. Elliot had cut himself off after three, Olivia after four. Her blinks had become a bit more sluggish but she certainly wasn't drunk. She was tipsy, her cheeks feeling the brunt of the alcohol; the liquid had warmed her exponentially and Elliot's gazes caused her to nearly combust. Inside she was turning to ashes, her organs shivering before bursting into flames.

Half past eleven and they were tossing crumpled bills down onto the table. Fin and Cragen hailed down a cab together and Munch took off on foot, wanting to walk off some of his inebriation before returning home. Elliot and Olivia were the last to leave, over-tipping their waitress before slipping on their coats.

They stepped out of the bar and sauntered out to the sidewalk, and simply standing side by side. If the moon was discernable in the sky they would have stared at it, but it wasn't, so they just stood taking in the night.

Elliot glanced over at her and felt his stomach roil and blinked a few times. "Hey Liv?" he asked quietly. She turned towards him quickly, hair bouncing about her face enticingly. If ever there were a better moment, if he had ever been more enchanted...

"Yeah?"

And then his lips were on hers, one hand smoothing over the hair at the back of her head. His lips were soft and insistent, sliding just a bit. She sighed and pressed into him slightly, her top lip sliding oh-so-slowly over his before she captured it lightly between her teeth. Olivia let out a happy little moan and pulled back.

She couldn't even remember closing her eyes, but when she opened them it was as if she was standing in the center of a rich cliché: he was before her, eyes sliding open with the upturn of his lips. Her world shifted, just a bit, and even if it was only in her head it felt very, very real. She smiled just as he did and tilted her head as if to ask, "What was that for?"

Her lips, pink and enticing and puffy and he wanted very badly to just kiss her again, and again, and then some more.

Elliot sighed slowly, cheeks puffing and deflating and slid his hand over her hair slowly, adoringly once more. "God," he began quietly, just barely audible. "I love hearing you laugh."

Her eyes lit with a delightful sparkle as she licked her lips. Unsure, Olivia took a tiny shuffle forward, elated when his arms-so strong, so, so strong-wrapped around her frame. "What do you want to do now?" his gravelly, intense voice dropped right above her left ear.

Olivia thought for a moment before replying into the shoulder of his coat, "Make me pancakes." Soft and wistful, her voice wound its way around his heart, squeezing gently.

She felt him smile against her, "With chocolate chips and whipped cream?"

"Read my mind," she sighed, feeling a fraction of her hunger sated.


	6. Chapter 6

_Lori... and her nectar got this shizzle done.

* * *

_ She'd always harbored some intensely romanticized notion of kissing in the snow. Gentle flakes fluttering down to land upon her eyelashes as someone kiss, kiss, kissed her warm. It was one of those things she kept huddled close to her heart, a pseudo fantasy she'd never made good on.

This kiss wasn't what she had expected; wasn't the nice, pretty, watercolor fantasy she'd imagined for as long as she could remember. Out of nowhere, he'd slung an arm around her hip and pulled her back to him, pressing his lips to hers firmly. Just as she was about to sink into the languid nature of his lips, Elliot planted a snowball directly on top of her head.

Olivia took a shocked step back, clumps of snow falling down the back of her coat, cold rivulets tracing the knobs of her spine. A dirty, guilty smile played upon Elliot's lips and eyes sparkled with mischief. As her mouth guppied open and closed attempting to find words, he debated whether or not to kiss her again. If he did, if he chose to, it would be the fifth kiss they had shared.

The second had taken place the week before. Elliot had invited her to his place for Thanksgiving dinner. Maureen had offered to cook for her father knowing full well that Elliot couldn't cook to save his soul. Olivia had rejected the offer initially, not wanting to intrude on what was sure to be a family gathering. Elliot had assured her that it wasn't going to be; Maureen was bringing her boyfriend David as well as a friend who couldn't afford the plane ticket home that month.

"Not if Elyse wants to go back to Quebec for Christmas, please daddy?" she'd begged and he'd eventually caved.

She was still hesitant after he'd filled her in on all of the details. So to ply her, he'd said, "Besides, I really want you there." That had clinched the deal.

So she went, bringing with her a green bean casserole and sweet potatoes and herself; dressed casually and comfortably in a beige wrap-around skirt and brown sweater. Elliot had met her at the door and unloaded her arms of the food, placing it on the table near the door, trailing a hand down her arms as he did so, standing behind her. "Thanks," she'd hurried and brushed the hair out of her eyes just as he was wrapping his strong fingers around her biceps in order to spin her around and kiss her.

It was light, just a slight brush of lips on lips. Still, it took her by surprise and her eyes widened for a moment, staring right into his before slipping shut to immerse herself in the sensation.

"Ewwww!" had come the chorus from behind them, the younger kids genuinely disgusted while the three older were trying not to laugh too hard, but failing miserably. Elliot had been mortified at the reaction while Olivia had simply clapped a hand on his chest once and pushed him away.

"Hey guys," she greeted and made her way into the kitchen, Elliot bringing up the rear with the food.

He had paused in the entryway to the kitchen and had taken in the sight before him. They were all talking, bustling around with such energy. They were intermingling in such a way that had him amazed. The house had never felt so alive, so ready to burst at the seams. A feeling of contentment, of thorough happiness coursed into his veins, through and through… it threatened to nearly swallow him completely.

Dinner took hours to prepare and Olivia, Maureen, David and Elyse had kept mostly to the kitchen. At increments, the boyfriend had strayed away from the women to watch part of the Cowboys/Redskins game with Dickie and Elliot. At first, the father in him had made Elliot eye the other man skeptically. But when he cheered for the Cowboys, most of Elliot's gripes melted away. Dave had shrugged, "I'm from Houston..."

Intermittently, Elliot would stray into the kitchen to find Olivia chopping vegetables or checking the turkey or arguing with Elyse about the wine. His two youngest were busying themselves attempting to conquer a 3-D puzzle, their laughter filtering back to him and mixing with the sounds coming from the kitchen. Whole, that's what he felt, standing there; that was the exact word, the exact feeling. It was an odd rush of emotion, having been sure three months previous that he would be left with a deep void of nothingness.

Dinner had been more than any of them had expected, a true feast. The food, the combined whole of it wouldn't fit on the table.

Somewhere in between his second and third helping of cranberry sauce, Kathleen had asked "Are you and Livia dating?" His gaze immediately shot across the table to catch her eyes, even as he choked a bit on the food in his mouth.

Olivia was amused and made no move to hide it; her smile stood out from the crest of her wine glass. She went to say something but immediately paused, smiling even wider, giving him the cue to speak. "I, uh... no, we're not there yet."

That was when Maureen had chosen to perk up. "You're kissing her, inviting her to dinner and having her put up with us," she stated, waving her fork around at all of the people seated at the table.

"And?" Elliot asked, grabbing his own glass of wine and taking a hearty gulp.

"You're dating," Maureen returned, pointing her fork at her father and then at Olivia. "I, for one, am happy about this."

Elliot wanted to ask 'What about your mother?' but his daughter continued. "I mean I love mom, but you two were... and besides, she's dating too."

"Daniel," Dickie piped up. "I don't like him, he's boring. And he likes golf." That made his father smile a little more, but he quickly quelled the rise of lips with a forkful of mashed potatoes.

That night as she was shrugging on her coat, stomach filled with turkey and pie, he came up behind her and lightly slipped his arms around her waist. They just stood and breathed there at the door for a bit. His breath came slow and easy over her shoulder as she gazed out the door, eyes hovering on the slush at the curb. For some reason, she couldn't help but think of her gun, and wonder why it wasn't on her hip. She wondered why his arms felt like such a staple, like something that should remain there, keeping her safe in some intangible way.

They breathed, slowly and in sync, falling in time with one another. She turned to him when she was sure her gaze would melt the snow outside. Her head lifted and two fingers, his middle and forefinger trailed down her cheek while he stared into her eyes. His lips met hers with an urgency and slipped open easily, her tongue teasing out to stroke over his.

Heart beating fast, beating so strong as she pressed her breasts to his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck, moaning as he kissed her harder, held her tighter.

In college, she'd decided to take up smoking. Even with a part time job, she couldn't support the habit and eventually resorted to grabbing half-smoked butts off the street, picking them up and lighting them to satisfy her addiction. And that was how she felt in that moment, so addicted, so willing for him to keep kissing her that she would do just about anything.

But he had pulled back, trailing his fingers down her cheek. "You gotta leave before-"

"Yeah," she agreed quickly, "Yeah." Smiling brightly, before she threw open the door and skipped down the steps.

"Tomorrow, see you!" she called and was gone, nearly skipping down the sidewalk to her car. He'd watched her until she turned the corner and had spun back into the house, light on his feet. As he dropped his head and walked towards the kitchen, he nearly ran directly into Maureen.

"We're leaving," she'd said, shouldering her bag before dropping a kiss on his cheek as her friends passed by them.

"It's good to see you smile like that again, daddy."

That had been a week ago, and the need was flaring anew as he held her arm, watching the snow melt in her hair as she cringed at the temperature. A laugh burst from him and he doubled over with the power of it, successfully terminating the moment that was about to culminate.

"Hey!" she yelled, mock angry though she was smiling too. He was bent in half, laughing as hard as she had ever heard him laugh. It was a nice sound, a filling sound that made her want to share in the elation. After a few seconds, she began tapping her foot; when he didn't stop after that, she turned on her heel and began clicking down the sidewalk, hands turned into her sides.

When he lifted her head, she was gone, halfway up the block and walking quickly. Elliot jumped up and jogged to catch up with her. Sure, she was smiling, but her eyes held a danger that he didn't want to provoke. "Sorry, I'm sorry."

Olivia rolled her eyes and nudged him with her elbow. "Come on, you're really not."

He thought for a moment before nodding, "You ever think you know me too well?"

She stopped and turned to him. "What's with all of the questions, with the 'you ever thinks'?" Cocking her head to the side and leaning in, she took a moment to breathe his scent and asked once more, "Really? What's up?"

Sighing, he shook his head as a chuckle rose up. "You know, this time I really just… I don't know."

Pursing her lips, she scuffed her shoes on the ground and then looked up at him, "Yeah, okay…" And again, she leaned in. "Just remember," her voice rasped out in a whisper as she looked both ways back and forth down the avenue. "We're not dating."

Winking at him, she began to walk away as he stood there, smiling in confusion and delight before he started off after her.

It had been a good lunch break…


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks Lori for the beta._

* * *

He had shown up at her door for no other reason than just to see her. That was happening more often. But more times than not, he would drive past her building a few times and then leave, slowly meandering back to his place in Queens. 

Tonight was different and it would have endeared her, really and truly and might have even caused her to choke up a bit. That was, if she wasn't already choked up, choked up and sobbing. The fissure had formed long ago, back when she was just a rookie, when she saw real blood for the first time.

It had grown substantially since then, but she'd managed to caulk it with coffee, beer, and more than a little support from her partner. She just wasn't sure it would hold anymore.

The humidity in the air had curled the hair just above her ear, had frizzed the hairs on top. She looked gorgeous and disheveled and pained and he couldn't stop himself from touching her, if just to stop her from breaking.

His palm immediately flew to her cheek, cupping it in a manner that was both friendly and concerned, smoothing over the "What's wrong, what happened?"

"No," she laughed self-deprecatingly, and licking her lips. "No. No, nothing happened. It's just... today..." The sorrow was still in her voice, a kind of hollowness that frightened him.

Elliot stepped inside and kicked the door shut with a thud, his other hand twining around the back of her neck to bring her a bit closer to him. "Tell me." His voice was raspy and pained and sounded like the first wind of autumn, rustling through dying trees. "It's okay, Olivia, you can..." But he didn't bother to finish, just quieted himself and stood with her in the dim light of her entryway, the two of them like shadows floating in limbo.

"He was so dirty and... Elliot, god, he'd been crying, and you could tell because he was so dirty that the tears had cleaned his face, you know? You know what I mean?" All too well, that's how much he knew what she meant. The sadness threatened to crawl deep into his bones, but the warmth of her body against his palms staved it off.

"Liv..." he drew out, bringing her forehead to rest against his shoulder. The stillness of the apartment) threatened to be broken by the commotion of the city outside, but the beat of their breath rasping out a steady cadence, calming the. "You gotta..." he sighed, but didn't bother to finish his sentence, there was no need.

Her reply was muffled into his shirt. "Mmm'I know, I know, it's hard sometimes and... god, let's just..."

Elliot's face softened as she pulled her tearstained face from his shirt and sniffled. Her mascara was smudged beneath her eyes and for a moment he caught a glimpse of her as a young woman, and it made him smile. "You okay, no," he stopped, before she could speak, poking her in the arm. "You're not okay, but I mean..."

"I could really use a beer," she murmured, and grabbed his hand to squeeze it, thanking him without having to voice it. He smiled, a lopsided thing, and held her hand as she trailed away, her fingers slipping from his after a moment.

Elliot watched her go and sunk his hands into his pockets, wondering if she wanted him there. The way she turned and glanced at him from the refrigerator had him shrugging out of his coat and meeting her to accept the beer she held out to him.

He cracked it with his palm, the metal bearing down on the skin of his palm in a sort of welcome pain. Tossing the cap into the sink, he brought the bottle to his lips, taking a long pull on the beverage before swallowing. "You wanna tell me anything?"

Her smile was lopsided, and he could still see where the tears had made their path on her cheeks. "Is that how we're going to do this?"

Elliot shrugged and watched as Olivia perched herself up on the counter next to the butcher knives. "I, I don't know," he said, wrapping both hands around the cool, brown bottle, staring down into the liquid within.

Olivia assumed the same position, her shoulders a bit more slumped, more defeated. "Uh huh," she said against her teeth, washing away the malice that threatened to bubble up with a swallow of Budweiser.

Elliot leaned against the cool, tile counter across from her, elbows resting on it behind him, his bottle clutched in his right hand. "It's hard to be here and know that you don't want me to be here, but still… want me to be here."

Her head lifted a little and she blinked, licking her lips as she attempted to wrap her head around what he'd said. "What?"

Shaking his head, Elliot stood, spine straight and downed a significant portion of his beer. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he tilted his head at her, "Never mind, it's not… it's… never mind." Head down once more, he scuffed his shoes on the linoleum, meeting her eyes once more before looking away and killing his beer.

The kitchen was yellow, the bright light from the ceiling bouncing off the walls, to making the room hum and glow. Her skin looked peachy, a delicious color that Elliot was sure he'd seen in an orchard once; something perfect and ripe and it hurt to tear his eyes away from her. "It's just that this is the hardest thing… I think I'll ever do."

A slight laugh came from her, "What is?"

"This, us," he replied, clearing his throat in the middle of his reply as he scuffed his shoes again.

Eyes widening, she chugged down a few gulps and faced him. "Harder than raising your kids?"

The smile that he produced was unexpected, but stunning nonetheless, and he leaned back on the counter as he had originally. "Nah, that's… instinctual… this is a challenge."

And just like that, the mood shifted from seriousness to one of flippancy. There were matters to be dealt with, emotions that needed cataloguing, talks that needed to be had. But in that moment all he really cared about was her smile, and setting her at ease; letting her know that he was there, was waiting, and would do next to anything to keep that smile on her face.

Her brow perched, "I'm a challenge?"

Elliot smiled, nodding as he and pushed his empty bottle back on the counter. "Oh yes, the biggest." He walked over to her, stood between her legs and rested his hands on her hips. "Liv, I want to be able to-"

"I know," she interrupted, placing her hands on his forearms gently. "And I appreciate it, I'm ah, I'm trying?" she asked both herself as well as him.

His hands slid up her sides to rest on her shoulders. "So am I, but, yeah, s'tricky."

"Mmm," she agreed, leaning down to him just as he leaned up. Their lips met somewhere in the middle and Olivia hummed her acceptance into his mouth.

It wasn't much, but it was something.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thanks Lauren. Thank you READERS! ... for, you know, reading.

* * *

_ There would be no fancy dinner, it just wasn't their style. Not that either one of them didn't enjoy a nice night on the town.

In fact, he'd taken her out numerous times, to the theater, to the ballet, to dinners of which the expense made his credit cringe.

But then again, she went to lengths to make him happy too. She'd snagged a pair of seats right above the dugout for a Yankees, Red Sox game and had spared no expense in keeping them supplied with hot dogs and popcorn and beer.

And she'd cheered just as hard as he had for the visiting team, the two of them accruing more than enough boos from the crowd.

And she'd taken him hiking upstate, played frisbee with him in the park, walked with him along 5th Avenue and listened him to point out all of the things he wanted to buy for her.

But tonight, no... that wouldn't be fancy. Because really... fancy wasn't his forte. Genuine was his thing and he figured asking her to take a walk with him was just as good as dropping a hundred on escargot and fancy wine. Luckily, he knew he was right, basically because he knew her, so when he slid her arm through his and took off in the direction of the Upper East Side he couldn't have felt more at ease.

He wanted to ask her if she felt like there were certain moments leading up to this point; he wanted to ask her if she knew like he knew that tonight was the night... but he didn't. He simply let Olivia linger by his side, sharing with him an old, old story from when she was a rookie. He let her speak and as he did so, he took the liberty of just watching her, watching her mouth move to form beautiful words that he almost forgot to hear.

At a particularly unbelievable point in the story Elliot had perked up enough to mutter a, "You're shittin' me," but had fallen back into silence as she had asserted the truth of her statement and had continued with the story. They way they walked together, the synchronicity that they found in one another's steps was truly startling. Their hips never jostled and they never fumbled, they just walked, some sort of harmony blooming to complete fruition between then.

"Think we should head back?" Elliot put forth, and she paused in her speech and looked at him. A small smile bloomed on her lips as she tilted her face up to both him and the light. Honey-dipped street light poured over her face, creating the most delicate shadows.

He was ensorcelled. "Sure, let's go."

But before they could go, before they could reverse the direction of their walking, he bent down and kissed her, softly, surely, kissed her as he hadn't before. Elliot kissed her with all of the care he knew he possessed, one hand delicately cupping the back of her head lest a fissure form and she fall to a million pieces.

Little did he know that she was already falling, fractioned into a million, sweet pieces all around him. Their lips were pliant as they shifted and admitted the other, and Olivia felt another one of those annoying bubbles of happiness well up in her chest. Pulling apart with a little gasp, her head remained in the protective grasp of his palms. "Elliot, are you going to take me to bed tonight?"

A bright, rumble of a laugh surpassed his own happy-bubble, and he dropped his hands to grab on of hers, toying with the fingers before twining them together. "Taking you to bed or, 'taking you to bed'?" he asked, nervous for her answer, nervous for his as well. But tonight, it still genuinely felt like _the_ night.

"Either would be fine," she sighed in a light voice before allowing it to drift into a smokier tone, "But I was hoping for the latter."

"That was _not_ romantic at all!" he laughed, tugging her a bit more into his body as they rounded another block, slowing their steps as they approached her building; whether it was their nerves or the simple seduction of their steps on the pavement, the two so utterly alone together amongst the livelihood of the city.

"You wanted to be romantic?" she gasped, mock shocked as she yanked on his arm, laughing.

But Elliot slowed even more, trailing his feet to a stop as Olivia moved herself in front of him, brow furrowing in confusion. His eyes were to the sky when she looked up to search his face. "El, what's up?"

"Naw, nothing," he began, his tone slightly sheepish. He hadn't had to do this, in well... nearly twenty years. His first time with Kathy had been an odd combination of fumbling, laughing and swearing as they maneuvered their way around the back of Elliot's pickup. This time, no amount of intimate planning should have been spared, but he didn't quite know how to go about getting them there. He just knew, just felt that _thing_ in the air, that spark, that something that meant, tonight... _was_ the night. "I just... wanted it to be... something."

Her lips twitched up in a smile and she hummed something like a, "Yeah?"

"I don't know, let's just… get you home," and he'd tried so desperately to keep the sigh out of the end of his statement, but it wheedled its way in none the less. But out of nowhere, nowhere at all, he looked to the sky again and said, "I do love you Olivia."

And while there was shock from the words he'd uttered, she just felt like she'd known. She'd known way back when, when she hadn't wanted to know; to hear him say the words was really secondary, but a milestone that had to be marked.

"I know," came the honest reply. "I love you too," Olivia said on a sigh, snuggling into his side when he twined an arm around her waist and pulled her back in step with him.

Elliot sighed dramatically, "I know." He laughed then, and grabbed her hips as she started up the steps before him. "You have…" he trailed off into nothingness, waiting for her to peer at him over her shoulder. When she did, he winked and licked his lips, "An amazing ass," he finished.

The laugh Olivia let loose was carefree and it made his skin flush and the hair on the back of his neck perk up. He took the stairs two at a time and caught up with her at the outer door. "Elliot, I-" but she couldn't finish her sentence because his lips were on her, tongues seeking each other out as hands roamed over cotton, needing to get at skin.

Her keys dangled at her side as she clutched at his hips, clawing at the denim-encased muscle. His thumbs pressed at her cheeks, slid over the skin there in thinly veiled desperation. "Liv, inside?" he gasped around her eager mouth.

Nodding, her shaky fingers fumbled with the keys, eventually inserting the key into the lock, allowing them purchase into the first floor foyer. Olivia scaled the stairs quickly, glancing back at him only briefly to make sure he was hurrying quickly behind.

Immediately inside, she shed her light coat, allowing it to fall to the floor as she spun around and pushed his jacket off of his shoulders too. His leather joined her cotton and they nearly stumbled over it, on their way to the counter.

Elliot laughed as they both reached for the buttons on her blouse at the same time. Her hands fell away as he worked her out of the top, gracing the revealed skin with sloppy kisses that elicited clipped groans from her. His shirt went next and though she paid him equal attention, he couldn't help but allow a few laughs to slip past his lips at her ticklish nips.

By the time they had made it to the bedroom, Olivia had bright red marks on the backs of her thighs from bumping into various articles of furniture. Their pants became tangled as each tried to kick them off in haste.

His boxers were green and her panties were some shade of mango; they clashed completely so it surprised the hell out of them when they came to fit together so well. "Jesus, Ol-Liv-"

"Shut up," she whispered and bucked into him. That was when his eyes slid closed and he thanked whomever for all the screaming matches, all the friendly dinners, all the beers, all the nights sitting, talking, surveilling. He was grateful for it all and made sure to whisper that to her as he began moving.

The sentiments spoken in the dark were heard as if spoken in the most bright of rooms, their meaning, their intent crystal in the dimness. Slickened skin slipped over the skin of the other and they both cherished the ease with which they fell to the sheets afterwards, sated and sweaty.

Somehow, his hand found hers in the tumult of limbs and sheets. The beating of his heart was so loud in his ears, he had to ask her to repeat herself when she spoke. "I said," she spoke, just a tad breathless, "That I'm going to be sore in the morning."

Of course she would crack a joke, of course. But the way her hand tightened around his and the manner with which her leg slid over his reminded him of the actual weight of the moment.

And that's how they stayed for the longest time, holding hands and breathing, allowing their world to stop spinning and right itself again while the rest of New York went right on spinning.


	9. Chapter 9

_This story is DONE. Thank you so much for reading, I appreciate it more than you know.

* * *

_ "You do realize it's been a year," he mentioned as he passed her a file over his desk. It was a nonchalant as he could have possibly made it sound and yet it still made him sound whiney, nearly needy.

New York was dreary, rain pelting against the windows of the precinct in a steady pitter-patter that had lulled her into a dreamlike state. "Huh?" Olivia pulled herself up off of her palm and accepted the file he was offering. "A year?" There was a slight twitch at the side of her lip and he wondered for a moment if he was being played.

Elliot's eyes fell to his desktop as he hid the rather boyish grin that was quick to appear on his lips. "Nothing, never mind." Elliot sighed and reached for a pen, risking one last glance at her before he intended on working.

Olivia smiled coyly at him, winked and then mouthed "Happy anniversary." She went about her work as she normally did, otherwise showing no signs that the day was important to her. He supposed he should be happy about that; no pressure to create a romantic outing, no need to purchase an expensive gift.

Truth be told, Elliot had forgotten about the occasion until the night previous and, until present, had had no time to formulate an adequate anniversary plan. The occasion did have to be celebrated, that he decided for sure. A year spent together with minor squabbles... that was certainly something to be thankful for. And there was no end for them in sight; he could see himself putting a ring on her finger in a year or two-

Elliot had to stop thinking about it; he was freaking himself out. Visibly shaking himself to the present, he brought his pencil down onto a sheet, intending on working. "Pssst," she whispered conspiratorially, looking back and forth in mock paranoia. "Tonight, be at my place at eight."

Damn, she was gorgeous... so gorgeous... he just couldn't believe it sometimes...

"But... that blows _my_ super secret plans," came his grumble and Olivia threw a crumpled up ball of paper at his head.

"Please, you had nothing," came her swift and accurate accusation. That was another thing that always tripped him up sometimes; he forgot that they were partners and as such, she was privy to everything that happened in his life. That was what partners were for; they were for buying beer and listening as the other drowned their sorrows. Perhaps that was why they had gotten along so smoothly as their relationship progressed: they had already known everything about the other.

There was no need for awkward conversations about his divorce or of talk about her mother; they already knew.

Picking up the ball of paper, he fiddled with it for a second before tossing it back at her, a broad grin splitting his face.

"You know me too well, this could be a problem."

"Doesn't that suck for you?" It didn't suck for him, nothing sucked for him. Nothing at all, in the world, sucked for him in that moment. He found it strange that he had been smiling so much in the past months and really, couldn't get enough of it. Because when he smiled, she smiled... and when she smiled, well, everything was amazing.

"You have no idea," he huffed and got up to grab another cup of coffee.

When the ball of paper hit his ass, he laughed; one year down, a lifetime to go... that even sounded bad in his damned head.

---

Eight o'clock rolled around and Elliot was pulling at his collar. He'd come straight from work, so technically he was still dressed in such a way that would make formal dining an acceptable outing. When he arrived in front of her building, he stalled for a moment, wondering if the daisies in hand would really go over better than the lilacs he'd eyed earlier.

Elliot reached up and rang the bell, being buzzed through immediately. His hands were sweaty for some reason though there was no reason for them to be. As he mounted the stairs, he thought about how strange the year had been. Falling in love a second time had been much more fulfilling than falling in love the first time. He tried not to think about it. There was no point.

Outside of her door, his fingers plucked gently at the petals of the flowers. They did look a little limp... if he left then and ran back down the street he could have-

"Happy anniversary," she appeared in the doorway, clad in sweatpants and a baggy tee shirt. Immediately he recognized it as one of his and laughed. As it sank in what she was wearing, he began to wonder if he'd taken the date too seriously.

Stepping inside, he waited until she shut the door behind him. The daisies fell limp in his hand, but she snatched them anyway, tucking them under her arm before wrapping her arms around his neck.

The flowers fell to the floor as her lips collided with his. "Didn't have to get me flowers," she murmured as she kissed him once more. After pulling away and running a finger across his deliciously sweaty throat, she beckoned him into the living room.

"Listen, I know this is a big day and all," she spun and planted a cold glass in his palm; he didn't bother looking at its contents. He was too busy watching her. "But really, I just want to be with you... so I ordered Thai from your favorite place and got us some Corona and... that's about it."

Olivia moved forward and grabbed his collar, sliding her fingers beneath the still-starchy fabric to touch his deliciously taut, warm skin. Immediately, she began plucking at the buttons, her gaze focused on the task at hand. He brought the drink to his lips and swallowed; her lips immediately sought his Adam's apple and placed a wet kiss there.

Sighing, he waited happily as she rid him of his shirt and left him standing in the middle of the kitchen in his undershirt and pants. "Dockers too bud, you're still too overdressed." Sliding into his arms, her mouth tilted up for a kiss and he accepted the invitation immediately, finding his tongue stroking over hers with enthusiasm.

She deftly undid his trousers and slid them over his hips, stepping back so that he could kick off his shoes and struggle out of his pants. She made her way to the couch and he followed and for a time they were sucked into the pointless plot of a made-for-TV movie before the food arrived. His hand stroked her thigh and her mouth kept finding its way to his cheek and neck.

When the buzzer sounded, she trailed off to retrieve their meal, returning with a rather heavy looking bag, placing it on the coffee table before she went to retrieve some utensils and plates. They ate in relative silence, the television gabbing in the background as they stole bites from the other's plate.

"This is pretty nice," he said, twirling noodles around his fork.

Olivia nodded, swallowing, "Yeah, it is."

Elliot gestured at her with his chin and smiled a sweet little thing, "Wanna do this forever?"

"Okay," she said, smiling, and ran her foot up his calf underneath the table.


End file.
